Mutations
by roantimothy
Summary: Going on the premise that what comes out of his mouth is only a fraction of what is left behind.


_**Going on the premise that what comes out of his mouth is only a fraction of what is left behind.**_

**Mutations**

He sent one copy to the governor's office, one to records, one to Steve, saved one to his own laptop and of course, because he didn't trust computers, one to the printer. Danny squinched his butt onto the edge of the table next to the laser printer, watching it spit and collate, arranging perfectly a mostly true story that would then be tucked neatly into a folder, label waiting, to be slid precisely and expectantly into the slot behind case number 46, a physical reminder, a touchable reward, a real value to his being here. Not all the cases were resolved, but the files evidenced his presence at a time when sometimes he didn't feel present at all. This wasn't actually case number 47, since cases received numbers based on the year and the month but for him it was case 47, even though there were countless Incident Reports behind those and then there were the Injury Reports, the Worker's Compensation claims, and The Steve Files.

Danny sighed. Fifty two long hours since he'd seen or talked to Grace, not because he was being punished but because his timing sucked. He wouldn't actually physically see her until Wednesday, unless he could pick her up after school on Tuesday, maybe take her for some shave ice, and drop her off at home. He was almost certain Rachel would be okay with that, but he was also semi-certain he wasn't ready for that, either.

That was a special kind of hell in itself. Since Grace could no longer be allowed to walk from the car up the eight or ten steps to the front door without his fear of her being grabbed or injured in some unbelievable heartachey kind of way, he would walk her to the door. Either Rachel would come to the door, baby on hip, sun dress blowing gently, a warm but sad smile on her face, or worse; Grace would insist that he come inside and see some amazing thing that Charlie could now do. There would be Stan, nursing that goddamn shoulder, still needing therapy, still warm and welcoming and somehow pathetically condescending to Danny, and Charlie would be adoringly smiling at his big sister. A Hallmark family moment. A special kind of hell.

He sighed, again. It really had been a long couple weeks. Steve gone on a call up, then a nasty call from New Jersey for Danny, and then missing Gracie. So Steve'd left Danny in charge, and they'd kept busy, and everything was fine. Two stitches over his left eye, the result of an amazing tackle of a suspect gone wrong because the asshole had seen Danny out of the corner of his eye, ducked, and Danny'd reeled fantastically into a concrete wall and Kono had caught the perp. Normal, almost, except it wasn't.

"Hey."

Danny slid off the table in surprise. Steven was leaning on the doorframe of his office, a butterfly bandaid over his right eye, a wrist support on his left arm, and dumping his duffel to the floor at his feet.

"Hey, you look like crap."

"I could say the same about you."

Danny smiled and nodded. "Long week."

Steve nodded too. "Everyone good?"

Danny pointed to his eye. "Nothing serious. No one's been shot, stabbed or hospitalized since you've been gone playing war. Which is an improvement, I might add, Steven J." It was an amazingly long boring week, not much drama, very little frustration. Appropriate backup even. And damn lonely. Not that Steve would ever know that.

Steve smiled and looked at some sleeved CDs on Danny's desk. Interrogation videos, he was pretty sure, but from NJPD, not HPD. He moved over and picked one up. Next to it was a photo of a young girl. "You're working on interstate cases now?"

Danny took the CD from Steve and shuffled the three discs into a pile, picture too, sliding them into his top desk drawer. "Old case."

"Tell me about it."

"Lost the war. How about you, did you guys win the war?"

Steve slumped into the chair in front of Danny's desk. "No, Danny, we didn't."

Danny shot him a surprised look. "What kind of Seals are you?"

"Mission failed. I'd tell you about it, but-"

Danny nodded, quiet. "Then you'd have to kill me. Sorry."

"You?"

"Ah, well, the Hawaii case, yeah, we won the battle. Jersey case no."

"Who's the girl?"

"Sierra Caldwell. She disappeared 8 years ago. The pedophile that I thought killed her is in prison for two other murders."

"But not for hers? What are the tapes?"

"Interviews with her father. And the pedophile. We didn't find her body, and we didn't convict anyone."

"But?"

"But her father died four months ago. I promised her family I would bring her body home."

"Dumb promise D."

Danny nodded. "Stupid. Cause the family was cleaning out a storage locker of the father's in Trenton. They found her body in a chest freezer."

Steve blew out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding and watched Danny. "I'm sorry. So you think you can find your answers in the interviews?"

Danny shrugged. "It must be there. It has to be."

"Maybe it's not, Danny. Maybe we try and try and try and it's just not there."

"Like WoFat?"

Steve looked a little stomach punched. But he nodded. "Maybe."

"You don't believe that and neither do I. But," Danny offered his hand to pull Steve to his feet. "It's not going to be tonight. Chin's got call, and no one knows you're back, right? so . . . "

"Longboards on the beach?" a half smile from Steve.

"Arggh. Longboards in front of the tv."

"No way".

"When you can turn off the surf CRASHING then-"

"It's soooooothing, Danny."

"To a whale, yeah, maybe . . ."

"I'm driving."

"You are NOT driving, I have been driving my own car for two weeks now and . . ."

"You live in my house, can't I drive your car?"

The soft glow of the plasma table shadowed them on their way out.

_Life is a thing that mutates without warning, not always in enviable ways. _

_-Diane Ackerman_

Finis


End file.
